Cœur d'un Lâche
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: Hermione Granger appears to be, in fact, so witty that she has provoked Draco Malfoy himself into questioning those few things he life he'd once thought certain.
1. Defining Cowardice

_**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and whoever else. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honestly, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest.

_**Author's Note:**_ This is my first Fanfiction ever, please forgive any short comings. I hope that you enjoy it, and if you don't, then I hope you find something that you do enjoy and read that. Reviews are, of course, appreciated. Even crazy spammish/flaming ones are fun. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize beforehand for my inability to spell names, I think I have a complex because my entire name is extraordinarily difficult to spell. Thanks for reading :)

**Chapter One**

Most people would wager that Draco Malfoy did not tan easily. Looking in the mirror that morning, though, he was met with an unusual sight. His skin was actually darker than usual. It did not, though, have a visually pleasing effect on Draco's overall appearance, in fact, it didn't even pertain to all of his skin. Just the areas right under his eyes. This was due to Vincent Crabbe, and his inconsiderately loud and incessant snoring, and for that he would pay.

Draco was about to leave the bathroom when he looked at himself again in the mirror. Merlin's best Sunday jumper-- he was handsome. He shot a satisfied at his reflection, which, of course, lovingly returned it. Unfortunately for Crabbe, he noted, closing the door behind him, Crabbe was not as hauntingly gorgeous as he was. The real misfortune, though, was that Crabbe was about to become a lot less pretty.

~o~

On Draco's left sat Gregory Goyle, which was nothing unusual. And, on his right, Blaise Zabini. Blaise had been kind enough to take Crabbe's place before Pansy Parkinson had noticed it was open. She wasn't the fastest snitch on the pitch. Hell, she'd even seen Crabbe dragged out of the common room by two students from the year below, she'd probably even made plans to visit him in Madame Pomfrey's (no doubt hoping to bump into Draco). And yet, she neither expected nor noticed Vincent Crabbe's absence from the Slytherin table until Blaise sat down. Funny, sometimes Draco even considered her witty, but those times when she'd exhibited quick thinking all had been times when she was insulting others. Perhaps the nastiness in her heart occasionally took over for the simpler things that filled her mind.

"...and you wouldn't _believe_ what Terry Boot said to Regina _then_," Draco looked up from his plate. Apparently Pansy was under the impression that they were having a conversation. He looked at her questioningly, and saw that her eyes were trained not on him, but on Blaise, who was glaring lazily at her, bored.

And then, Draco noticed, that although Pansy wasn't looking at him, someone else was. Well, glaring would have been a more accurate term. Precious Harry Potter was glaring at him across the Hall at him, as though he'd personally offended him. And, he had, on several occasions. That he prided himself in accomplishing. However, all Draco had done in his presence that morning was eat his breakfast. He looked down at his plate, wondering whether he should do just that. Then his eyes strayed to the brute next to him.

"Goyle," he said, sneering, "Bored?" On any other face, the look that Goyle had on would probably suggest boredom, if not comatose. On Goyle, however, it just looked particularly thoughtful.

"Yeah. Lunch is better," Goyle said, frowning. He smiled shortly after, though, his thoughts drifting to lunch. Lunch _was _better. And snacks were too. Once, Crabbe had showed him this magazine he'd nicked off of a muggle for fun, and it was filled with all sorts of decorative cakes...

Draco had learned to accept the poor conversation that was Gregory Goyle long ago. So, getting out of his seat and ignoring the affronted look he received from Pansy Parkinson, he didn't say anything back, and merely nodded for Goyle to get up too.

"Harry Potter is a great oaf," Goyle said, getting up off the bench. "He is not very smart—or good-looking-- and he is a Gryfindor."

"That's more than you've said all week," Draco noted in a tone of disgust, sauntering over to the Gryfindor table. Goyle merely shrugged, and followed, apparently flattered. He'd tried to make up for Crabbe's absence and Draco had praised him. He'd make a great death eater, he thought, touching his blank forearm absent-mindedly, just like his Pa.

~o~

"Why're you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, turning around to face the Slytherin.

"What's wrong, Potter? Flattered?" Malfoy replied, smirking.

"How 'bout you shove off, Malfoy?" Ron suggested, making to stand up. Hermione grabbed his arm firmly.

"Clever retort as always. Though, I guess if I spent as much time devoted to riding on my best mate's coat-tails, I'd get a little stupider every day too. Just--" he stopped abruptly as Ron rose from the bench. He sneered. "Pathetic; just pathetic."

"Just ignore him," Hermione pleaded calmly, her voice firm, looking from Harry to Ron, her hand clasped around Ron's forearm. It was easier said than done, obviously, or Malfoy wouldn't go out of his way to annoy them so often.

"Yeah, _Weasel_, your girlfriend's right, just ignore me, you can't _afford_ to get into a fight with me," he taunted, watching with pleasure as color crept from Ronald's face only to return tenfold.

Harry, too, had risen to his feet, wand out.

"Now, now, Potter," Malfoy said, his own wand drawn, "Put your wand away. In case you've already _forgotten,_" he glanced at another of the table's occupants as he said this, and Neville Longbottom turned pink, "we happen to be in the Great Hall," he paused, as if waiting for Harry to catch up, "Which means there are teachers," he said, his words dripping with as much condescending as he could muster, "Which means trouble."

He smirked at each of the three in turn, addressing them good-bye, "Potty, Weasel," he nodded, "Granger." He walked away contently. Goyle looked like he was about to follow him, when he thought the better and nodded to Harry, "Potter," he said, trying very hard to sound as sly as Malfoy. Pleased with himself, he caught up to Malfoy and followed behind him.

~o~

"One day, I swear," Ron said, shaking his head, once Malfoy was out of hearing range, "I swear."

"Yeah," Harry added, smiling and exchanging a glance with Hermione.

"Somebody out to do something about him," Neville chimed in from across the table, to the surprise of the other three. He looked rather surprised himself, and once again he turned pink, "Gran says you have to deal with that sort of person head on, or they'll never leave you alone."

"The problem is," Hermione explained with a frown, picking at her food but looking at the others, "He hates us."

"Perceptive, you are," Ron commented, looking at her pointedly.

"What I mean, Ron, is that that sort of thing doesn't go away so easily," she paused, "I mean, no one can blindly hate without being ignorant, right?" the looks on their faces expressed that none of them would really venture to confirm, 'right,' she went on, "That's where the whole 'blindly' bit comes in. If they knew enough to understand--Anyway, some people are just ignorant, and usually people deny anything that would suggest that they're wrong, much less that they're..." she lost her train of thought, though it was just as well, because Harry didn't seem to be paying attention, and neither Ron nor Neville were boasting looks of understanding. Smiling weakly at Neville, she finished, "Though, I'm sure your Grandmother knows what she's talking about."

~o~

"At least we have double potions _first,_" Ron said, looking woefully from Harry to Hermione. "I can't imagine having it at the end, I mean."

"Yeah," Harry said, "Now we have all day to forget about Snape."

Hermione had not really been listening, as they walked side by side down the corridor, but she knew to pay attention for key phrases. "He's really not fair to you, you should tell Professor McGonagall," she said automatically, and Harry began going off about Snape's satisfaction.

Ignorance. Knowledge. If you really understood something, you weren't ignorant when it cam to that thing. If you really understood a person, and knew all there was to know about them... how would you feel about that person? You'd probably... well, you wouldn't necessarily like them. But maybe you wouldn't dislike them any-more. Perhaps you would love, appreciate those who were good, and those that were bad... you would pity. They would make you not hateful, but sad. Behind the cause of one sad story was another sad story.

Malfoy hated her. How would he feel about her if he understood, and was rid of the ignorance that no doubt clouded his mind? That would depend on whether or not Hermione was good, or, well, someone who did bad things.

"I can hardly decide that objectively," she murmured, smiling to herself. She hadn't realised her thoughts had carried over to words until Ron asked, "What?"

"Hmm?" she replied, pulled from her thoughts.

"Decide _what_?"Harry asked her.

"Oh," she said, "Oh, sorry, nothing."

They had arrived at potions, finally. She was saved. Well, saved from an awkward explanation, at least, not from the class, which was inherently worse.

~o~

"...Granger, Patil. Goyle, Brown. Longbottom, Zabini. Potter, Finnegan. Weasely, Crabbe--" Snape droned on, listing off pairs, until he was interrupted.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Draco knew he could easily get away with interrupting the teacher, in fact he'd made a bet with Blaise before class, and now he was going to get an easy five galleons. Not that money was an issue. It was the victory that would satisfy him.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape said asked, looking up.

"Crabbe isn't in today," he informed him. He had to suppress a smirk, and a few of the knowing Slytherin's around him snickered.

Snape, irritated that he'd been interruped, said, "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. In which case," he resumed the bored tone he's been using before, assigning partnerships, "Weasely," he looked down at his list, "Malfoy."

Draco looked around the room, frowning. Dean Thomas of Gryfindor wasn't there today either. He regretted saying anything, but you couldn't tell from the look on his face. Zabini was grinning at him. Malfoy smirked, and mouthed, 'You owe me five galleons.' Zabini nodded, and mouthed back, 'I know; It was worth it.'

~o~

"Turn to page three hundred and twenty seven," Snape instructed, "There you will find a list of ingredients. Now, who can tell me what a Sleeping Draught does?"

Granger's hand was not the only one to raise into the air, for once, though it was still thoroughly the most enthusiastic. Draco had even raised his hand.

"Miss Parkinson?"

"It makes the drinker fall asleep?"

"Correct. Five points to Slytherin."

Probably the first Slytherin points Pansy had ever earned her house. She seemed to be thinking something along those lines, anyway, as she glanced over at Draco, grinning hopefully, aching for his approval. He ignored her. There had to be other interested PureBlooded girls out there. There had to.

To be really honest, he wouldn't even mind ending up with a girl who wasn't of pure blood. Of course, she couldn't be a muggle, or a Mudblood, but most wizards were HalfBloods anyways, so it would be likely that the girl perfect for Draco would end up being one of those. As long as she was classy in all other respects, he could probably overlook it. It didn't matter anyway, what he could overlook, the final decision would be made, of course, by his father. Draco didn't always agree with his decisions, but it was fair to say that he usually did. And, naturally, his father was usually right. How else would he end up so successful? Rich like you read about, happily married to a PureBlooded witch, influential as could be, and with a son as perfectly amazing, and, of course, as handsome, as Draco Malfoy. He had to be doing something right, and something, in his case, meant almost everything. What he did wrong was obvious. For all his pride, he bowed down to someone else. To the dark lord. And then he went and tortured people, taking pleasure from their pain. Draco kept making excuses to delay becoming a death eater. He didn't want to hurt his father, anger him, tell him that it wasn't what he wanted, but what his father wanted. There had been a time when he had thought that was one in the same, but Draco was tired of seeing his fathers usually warm gray eyes, not unlike his own, reflect revolting cruelty and indifference. He supposed that how he liked to bother first years, and Gryfindors, was not entirely unlike how his father ripped muggles limb from limb, but he would never be that awful, no matter how much the muggles deserved to be beaten into place by someone, he didn't want to be the one to...

"Draco!" Zabini nudged him for what was, apparently, not the first time, gesturing to the instructions written on the board. Draco looked around, noticing that everyone else was with their partner, and Weasley stood, clearly annoyed, beside his desk.

"I know, I was just trying to see how long it would take Weasley to figure out I wasn't already there," he lied, glaring up at Zabini. "And don't touch me," he added. Zabini, looking affronted, walked off to work with Longbottom.

Draco finally got up to move over where Weasley was waiting.

"Don't feel too bad," he told him in mock reassurance, "it's entirely possible that some great witch or wizard owned that potions book fifty years ago. In fact, maybe you can even sell it and buy a nicer house." And then it began.

"You know what? You have it. So you can take it, and shove--"

"You don't want to say that, Weasel."

"Don't I?"

"I've drawn my wand, but you're too thick to notice. Don't make me--"

This time it was Malfoy who was interrupted. "Mr. Weasley?" came a tone of mock surprise. It belonged to neither bickering student, but to the Potions Master standing beside them. "Think you're too good to work for Mr. Malfoy, because you're best friends with The Boy Who Lived?" there was clear venom seeping from his words as he pronounced Potter's title. "Since this is no fault of Mr. Malfoy's, I will ask that you work with Miss Patil for the remainder of this lesson. Switch with Miss Granger."

The triumphant smile that had been playing across Draco's face faltered. The Weasel was taken, and he was raised one Beaver. He quickly forced a smirk, though. This could work out well. She would ignore his taunts, yes, but she would probably do all the work for him, and with Snape as a professor, he'd get all the credit. Granger wasn't exactly predictable, though, and this had always irritated Malfoy. He could always count on a reaction from Weasley or Potter, but it was harder to get a rise out of Granger. He'd called her a Mudblood in second year, and all she didn't seem to have even understood what it had meant. Just before that, while he had intimidated everyone else with the brooms his father had bought, she'd been the only one to put two and two together, and accuse him of buying his way onto the team. She consistently had better come-backs than the other two, but then at the same time, she ignored his clever insults. But then, she also exploded at him sometimes. And even then she bested him. It was sickening. He, a Malfoy, was born to be in control. In a position of power. Always. And yet she, a Mudblood, born to forever be inferior, never gave him that power. It caused him to feel passionately for her, for while such a thing would evoke respect in some people, he was positive that he loathed her.

~o~

Hermione had worked with Malfoy in silence at first. She figured that he didn't want to push his luck with Snape, and that was fine by her. Then she made the mistake of asking a favor of him. Well, no, perhaps not a favor, as he was supposed to be doing at least half the work anyway, instead of tossing in one of the ingredients whenever he saw Snape walk by, but it still remained that she had asked something of him.

"Hey, Malfoy, could you please put the newt's eyes in?" She didn't like looking at them, much less touching them.

"Thought you were a beaver, not a chicken, Granger, now I'll have to think of an animal with buckteeth and wings. I'll admit you're brave to go about looking like_ that_ all day, but honestly."

"You're the coward here, Malfoy, you always have been." She wasn't sure what had made her say it, but somehow her response had made perfect sense.

"And why, pray tell, and _I_ the coward, Granger?"

Hermione considered this for a moment, and decided to give Malfoy an honest answer. He wouldn't listen, but it would feel good to say it.

"Because, you lead a life of ignorance. And why would anyone choose a life of ignorance? To avoid the pain that comes with accepting reality. Lying to yourself and struggling to believe it. Not brave enough to face the truth. Cowardice. That's all it is, cowardice." Malfoy was glaring at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

"There is a longing inside everyone, a desire if you will, to be flawless. Perfect. Magnificent. Most people realize that they aren't flawless early on in life. So, for the rest of their lives, they try and rid themselves of flaws, change themselves to become better. Others shy away from the challenge. Rather than altering themselves to change how they're seen, they try instead to change the way that they see others. Rather than fighting to win, they delude themselves into thinking that others have lost, that they're the only ones who can win.

"To accept that you aren't the best, that you have flaws, and to try and better yourself takes courage. It takes strength of character and heart. It takes, really, integrity.

"If you ask me-" she was interrupted.

"Funny, Granger, I don't recall--" but she ignored him, and continued, her voice rising over his, he stopped speaking and listened impatiently.

"If you ask me, the soul quality of a Slytherin is not cunning, but cowardice. Perhaps it takes cunning to pass off a lie as the truth, but to lie at all requires cowardice in one form or another."

"My father--" he began, again her voice drowning his out.

"Your father is a coward in all respects."

"He happens to be one of the most respected--" he tried again, his voice rising along with the color in his usually pale cheeks.

"And that is where you're wrong, Malfoy. He had power over others, yes, but not because they respect him. Respect is something you earn. People give it to you willingly. Fear is something different. It is inflicted, and not as easily maintained as respect. Lies are often needed to be aided to maintain people's belief in them, so from one lie come many to support that lie. Fear works in a similar way. Often, people have to be given more and more reasons to fear something, otherwise they are given time to conquer that fear. You can commit one fearsome act, but, usually, to maintain that reputation, you must commit more. You do not create 'a rain of terror' with but one raindrop.

"Your father, like you, will never be respected, because of the coward he is. Cowards do not command respect. They can, on occasion, command fear from those who give it. But from the brave they only receive pity. And so, I pity you, Malfoy. There is a reason why the lion hunts in a pack while the snake slithers alone."

Malfoy was about to respond with his own clever animal-metaphor, but Snape dismissed class, ordering them to save their potions for next time. Hermione left that for Malfoy to do, not particularly caring whether or not he did. She was just pleased to have given the last word. A smile creeping across her face, replacing the look of fierce, passionate dislike she had shown moments before, as she put her book away and left the room.

~x~


	2. Argued Recollection

_**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and whoever else. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honestly, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest.

_**Author's Note:**_ Sorry for the wait. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the second chapter! [[ Reviews deeply appreciated ;) ]]

**Chapter Two**

Draco glided through the rest of the day after potions without his usual air of Malfoyity. He thought a few of the other Slytherins were suspicious, and put out word that he wasn't feeling well. Close contact with a mudblood was thought to be unsafe, so no one found it too hard to believe.

Naturally, 'the best lies are ninety percent true,' was, in fact, true. He certainly didn't feel well, though he didn't feel sick. And, it was definitely brought on by Granger. He figured he was just still in shock that she had been so rude and so wrong, but part of him was aware that that wasn't true.

_**Because, you lead a life of ignorance. And why would anyone choose a life of ignorance? To avoid the pain that comes with accepting reality. Lying to yourself and struggling to believe it. Not brave enough to face the truth. Cowardice. That's all it is, cowardice.**_

When had he ever been lied to, by himself? That didn't even make sense. Clearly, if you were lying to yourself it would be fruitless, as you can tell? Somewhere you would know that it was a lie. _Like just now,_ he thought, as he lay awake in bed, _I told myself it was shock, and I knew it isn't... it's doubt. _

Could Granger be right? She was acclaimed to be the brightest witch in their class. And she wasn't in Ravenclaw, she was in Gryfindor. So, she'd have to know something about bravery, and anything she knew was likely to be accurate. But, perhaps she knew that he would think her credible, he considered, maybe she would expect me to think her honest. She could be trying to get inside his head, for Potter, or out of her own hatred for him. Just thought she'd mess with him. _No, _he thought_, no that's something _I'd_ do. Something a _Slytherin_ would do..._

_**If you ask me, the soul quality of a Slytherin is not cunning, but cowardice. Perhaps it takes cunning to pass off a lie as the truth, but to lie at all requires cowardice in one form or another... There is a reason why the lion hunts in a pack while the snake slithers alone.**_

Cowardice? Would it be cowardly to try to psych someone out? No. It would be, well, cunning. Clever. Choice. But then, if you faced them off properly, you wouldn't need to psych them out. The reason for not doing that would be that it would bring unnecessary harm to yourself. And maybe others. It wasn't cowardly to not want yourself bloodied up, surely it was sane! Anyone in their right minds would do the same. _No,_ Draco corrected,_ that wasn't entirely true. Potter wouldn't. Because he's foolish, or because he's brave?_

Did you have to be foolish to some extent to be brave, and cowardly to some extent to be cunning? That didn't seem fare. Cunning and foolish felt like opposites, and so did brave and cowardly. If Slytherin was cowardly, than Gryfindor was foolish, because they each were always one the other wasn't.

What was he thinking? Slytherin wasn't cowardly at all! That Granger, however smart and honest and noble, was a fool, a bias fool who couldn't think objectively of Slytherin! If Draco wanted to discuss such a thing properly with someone, they couldn't be in either house.

But, no, he couldn't do that. Someone would have to be out of their right mind to agree to keep quiet about it, or at least mad enough to not be taken seriously if they leaked information. And there wasn't anyone like that at school, that he was almost glad of.

Draco rolled onto his side, shifting about uncomfortably, before finally he fell into a troubled sleep.

~o~

"And you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

"This is so demeaning. I can't believe I'm talking to you."

"I can't either. I think you must have been bitten by a Northern Geaishkavi. Bites can result in wild personality changes, you see. But don't worry, in a few hours you'll be your old self and you wont even remember this. Do you know when you were bitten? It feels sort of like a bee sting, but more furry. Father was bitten once, dreadful day."

"Yeah, well, I can't recall, Lovegood, probably sometime in the hallway. Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was, well, do you think Slytherins are cowardly, or cunning? And, are Gryffindors fool-hearty or pure of heart?"

"It must have been a full grown Geaishkavi."

"Yeah, I bet. So, what do you think?"

"I think that it must have been full grown."

"No! About what I asked you!"

"Oh, well that's easy. Both, really, it depends on the person. Some are more cowardly than others, some more cunning, but all are a little bit of both, at least, I should think."

"Do you think I'm a coward?"

"You came to talk with a Ravenclaw girl you usually snicker at. You're in the hallway without your two larger friends-- Carp and Hopkins, I think they were, those stalky ones-- so, you're either brave-" Draco's heart lifted, though he tried to stop it, "-Or you're desperate enough to get over one fear to try and avoid another. Personally, I think it's the Geaishkavi. If you would wear more pink you wouldn't have this problem. I think it's your hair-- I'm a blond too, and I seems to meet them a lot."

"Yeah, well, don't mention this to anyone, Lovegood. If you do, I'll know."

"Will you send Carp and Hopkins after me?"

"What? I think you know the answer."

"Oh, good!"

~o~

_**Your father, like you, will never be respected, because of the coward he is. Cowards do not command respect. They can, on occasion, command fear from those who give it. But from the brave they only receive pity. And so, I pity you, Malfoy.**_

Pity! The nerve. He didn't need her pity; it was probably as filthy as her blood. Oh, how he loathed Hermione Granger. Almost anything about her made his insides squirm with disapproval. In fact, sometimes, on particularly quiet days, he could just sit there and think of all the things he hated about her. He had a list, in his head, of all the things he hated about many people, but none of them made him as passionately upset as Granger's.

"You gonnar eat that, Draco?"

"No Crabbe," he replied, not hiding the note of disgust in his voice, "And I surely don't want to watch you eat it either."

"It looks good... why aren' you gonnar eat it?"

"Because, Goyle, when you're hungry you're more aware. It's always good to be a little hungry, makes you wittier."

"Oh. So tha's why you're skinny."

"No, that's natural. But I think that's why you're fat."

"My father says I'm growing."

"You know, Crabbe, I'm not sure if anyone's ever told you, but most people grow vertically too."

"My mum says not everyone is perfect."

"You're mum's right, Goyle, there is only one Draco Malfoy."

_**There is a longing inside everyone, a desire if you will, to be flawless. Perfect. Magnificent. Most people realize that they aren't flawless early on in life.**_

__Just because Granger__wanted desperately to read and improve herself constantly didn't mean everyone else did. Draco was fine as he was. And Pureblooded, to boot. Draco recalled all of those awkward shouting matches at the dinner table in his first few years at school.

_A Mudblood girl bested you in all your classes? Do you enjoy spitting on the Malfoy name? You may as well splatter dirty blood on it! Go marry that Mudblood girl, then, maybe you'll have a chance at smart kids! You, my son!_

It was ridiculous to expect everyone to try so hard. Granger and his dad could go get married for all he cared, and take their asinine expectations with them. This thought made him particularly angry. His heart did an angry, spiteful flop.

_**To accept that you aren't the best, that you have flaws, and to try and better yourself takes courage. It takes strength of character and heart. It takes, really, integrity. **_

That was stupid. Just something losers told themselves to trick them into thinking that they'd never really lost. And it was different for Granger. She really _wasn't_ the best. Draco _was. _He'd been told it since the day he was born.

_**Rather than altering themselves to change how they're seen, they try instead to change the way that they see others. Rather than fighting to win, they delude themselves into thinking that others have lost, that they're the only ones who can win.**_

__The stupid Granger-voice in his head had a reply for everything. Thank Merlin's kilt dinner was almost over and he'd be to sleep soon.


	3. Chasing Butterflies

**Disclaimer:**___This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and whoever else. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honestly, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest._

**Author's Note:** _Thanks so much for reading! Again, reviews are deeply appreciated. And my apologies to anyone who ends up horribly confused by this chapter :) I try not to be confusing. Also, I apologize for the several spelling and grammatical errors that were in past chapters. I only ever notice those things when I'm rereading them days later :/ shame really... Anyway, enjoy! :D_

**Chapter Three**

Draco Malfoy had explicitly instructed Luna Lovegood not to repeat their seemingly innocent conversation to anyone. So, naturally, she had. It had to be important to him to be such a secret. She repeated it to Ginny Weasley, along with the instructions to repeat it to no one. And, naturally, she repeated it to someone. And, as it were, that someone happened to be Hermione Granger.

Hermione had believed Ginny at once. Luna imagined many things, but they were all things that couldn't be disproved, and a conversation with someone they all knew could. Which meant it was true. Why, in the name of Merlin's beard, had Malfoy confided his insecurities in Luna, of all people? She could think of many reasons, reasons Malfoy had undoubtedly thought of himself before speaking with the Ravenclaw, but she could also think of several reasons not to. The most important being that he couldn't trust her. Luna greatly valued what friendships she had, and so it was obvious that if a friend ever inquired after, or needed that information, she would easily offer it to them. What was Malfoy playing at? Did he want Ginny to find out? Did he want Hermione to find out? What was this?

It couldn't be part of some elaborate plot to confuse her, that would just be to unnecessary. It also wouldn't have made sense for him to try and give the information to Hermione because it was genuine, and he felt he'd loose dignity if he told her himself. Surely it was less dignified to have it be known he had confided in Luna. And surely it would be easier just to tell her himself. The only reasons behind it she could think of were that he had really been wondering about Slytherins and Gryfindors, and had trusted Luna not to have anyone to tell, or not to tell anyone, and that it had all been an elaborate plot to stage an elaborate plot, so obviously overkill that no one would suspect it to be overkill. But what would be the point of it?

Draco didn't seem the sort to premeditate his bullying. He always seemed to approach them on a whim. He had never approached Buckbeak with the intent of being injured, she didn't think, it seemed more likely that he had thought up getting rid of Buckbeak as revenge against her, rather than a way to bother Hagrid and indirectly them. But, perhaps it had been? Had she been misinterpreting all of his actions so far? Her thoughts were filled with considering Malfoy's thinking up until the potions class the following week.

And so, she found herself nervous and yet excited to meet Malfoy again, having managed to not interact with him since their previous lesson. She was one of the first Gryfindors in class, as they had just left Herbology and many were changing their shirts, though the Slytherins were mostly already there. She made for her usual seat, and Snape seemed to notice.

"I will assume, Granger, that you did not see what the rest of class was doing, and that you did not think that your seating ideas were better than everyone else's could possibly be, conceived by minds that weren't yours, and I will inform you that you are to sit in the seat you sat in last class."

She nodded to him, "Yes Professor," she answered mildly, and sat next to Malfoy. It was very convenient, as it meant she got to study his expression without looking suspicious.

~o~

Draco had been thinking a lot the past week or so. He'd decided that he wasn't a coward, and his father was, and he intended to tell this to Granger.

"I'm not a coward," he said, clearly, the moment she sat down. Well, he didn't have to tell her the bit about his father unless she asked.

"Yes you are, you're even afraid of being a coward." It was as if she was trying to provoke him, rather than brush him off as usual. As she set up the cauldron, her hand brushed his. He chose not to comment on it, as she didn't seem to have noticed. His skin burned where she'd touched it. As it faded, the burning sensation shot up his arm. It was as if she had impurified his veins simply by brushing against him. Disgusting.

"I'm not afraid of anything, I just disagree."

"You can't possibly be unafraid of anything, and the fact that you're denying fear only furthers my point."

"Fine," he said, glaring at her, "I'm afraid of Boguarts."

"You're kidding, right?"

"'The only thing to fear is fear itself.' That's a muggle quote, isn't it?" Granger looked him over appraisingly.

"That doesn't count," she told him finally.

"I'm not a fan of butterflies, either," he told her, trying to sound casual. He didn't mention that he'd never told anyone this, as he didn't think it pertinent. It had never come up in conversation. Naturally, Granger laughed. She stopped, he was pleased to notice, as soon as she saw the dark expression on his face.

"Really?" she asked, some of the laugh still shaking her voice.

"Yes," he said indignantly, sitting up straighter to show that he thought it was nothing to be ashamed of.

"Why?" she asked, a smile still playing across her face. The way she was looking at him made his flesh crawl. Smiling. He loathed her so.

"Because," he said, acidically, "well, have you ever seen their faces? Disgusting, they are! And their bodies—never mind their wings." She didn't look convinced. "Moths, too," he added, frowning, "they're even worse. They don't even try to look presentable." Much like Granger, he thought, though he didn't say it out loud.

~o~

Malfoy was becoming more fascinating by the minute. She still wasn't sure exactly what he was up to, but she took it at face value, deciding she would evaluate it later. She saw Snape coming over, and made to busy herself with finishing the potion. The pinches of kidney string.

~o~

"So, you're afraid of butterflies, and yet you're brave?" she asked, still smiling.

"I never said I was brave," he spat, annoyed by her obvious amusement, "I merely said I wasn't a coward. And I'm not. Surely admitting that you're afraid of butterflies is some sort of bravery."

"Yes, but being afraid of them at all is," she began.

"--Rational," he cut in. "It's much more likely I'll meet a butterfly than a tiger, face-to-face."

"But it's much more rational to fear the unknown, Malfoy. You've seen how harmless butterflies are."

"They could be hiding something. They're all about deceit. They have beautiful wings, and they flounce around all proud of them so that you won't look at their ugly faces." Even as he said it, he knew it far-fetched. But, at the same time, he found truth in the words.

"They're faces aren't all that ugly compared to other insects," Granger reasoned.

"Well," Draco said defensively, "Maybe they don't know that."

"Maybe they don't," Granger agreed mildly. Was she making fun of him?

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sneering.

"Well, maybe because they're wings are so intimidating, people never focus in their faces, and so no one ever evaluated them properly," her smile seemed to have softened. She had that annoying look her her eye. That twinkle. That warm sense of knowing something he didn't that Dumbledore always kept in his eyes. It was obnoxious.

"I've looked them in the eye, and I think they're ugly. I don't care about the other insects, they don't get up in your face all proudly like a butterfly does. They think they're the kings of the insects, and they beg for closer inspection by fluttering about by flowers all the time."

"Maybe when they fly in your face, fluttering their wings, they're really just trying to get you to see them as beautiful, because they think they know that they aren't."

"So butterflies are just insecure."

"You said so, not me."

"So butterflies aren't ugly."

"I don't think so."

There was silence. Draco got the feeling they weren't talking about butterflies anymore, and he didn't like it one bit. Mostly because he didn't have a clue what the hell they were talking about. It was like stumbling into an inside joke and everyone thought you were already a part of, and playing along.

They worked in silence for a while. Mostly Granger was doing all the working. Occasionally she'd reach for an ingredient and her hand would brush his, or his arm, and he would get that awful burning sensation again. Sometimes a little bit of color would rise to his cheeks. He was embarrassed to be seen working with a muggle born. Especially with one as annoying as Granger.

~x~


	4. Perfectly Predictable

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Seriously, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest, and I'm super-dooper sorry if it has occurred. Super-dooper._

**Author's Note:** _Thanks again for reading, especially for reading this far! I'm sorry for the wait, my computer is sometimes troublesome and refused to open OpenOffice for a while [so, really, it was StillClosedOffice, har har har.] Or GIMP, for that matter, and I was very put out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter; reviews deeply appreciated._

**Chapter Four **

What the_ hell _was a butterfly? What was Granger playing at?

Draco needed someone to talk to, and there was, as usual, absolutely nobody he could confide in. So, naturally, he confided in a nobody. _Again._

~o~

"Do you remember her _exact _words?"

"No. Something like, 'I don't think that butterflies are ugly.' Does it matter?_ Should_ it matter? What, in Merlin's middle name, did she _mean_?"

"You're not very perceptive. _You_ are obviously the butterfly."

"As in, I'm my own worst fear-"

"No," she interrupted dreamily, "Not at all. Well, no, maybe, but that isn't what I meant. You must have your own personal herd of nargles."

"You mean,_ I am_..." his voice trailed off as his words faded into thoughts.

"Yes. You_ are _a nargle-attractor."

"You, you dolt, I was _going_ to say-" he heard footsteps, "That it's nearly curfew. Evening, Lovegood." He nodded to her, sneering, and walked off.

"That's not what you were going to say," she replied dreamily before heading in the opposite direction.

~o~

Hermione read the note for a third time. The elegant, spidery writing was not hard to read, but she still felt compelled to read it over to be sure she had read it properly the first few times.

_**I am not a Butterfly. I am a vicious Snake. Send my regards to your Weasel.**_

__It was obviously from Malfoy. She just didn't want it to be. But, alas, there were so few words, it was difficult to find something that could be interpreted to suggest it hadn't been from him. Why had he written it, anyway? Should she accept this, like all his other recent acts, at face value? It felt like all she could do.

"Who's that letter from, Hermione? I don't recognize the owl," she heard Ron say, his words surprisingly easy to make out through his mouth full of food. She covered the note when he tried to read it.

"It's from Vitkor, if you_ must _know," she lied, indignant, blushing profusely.

Harry hastily changed the subject to Quidditch, and Hermione left for Arithmancy before Ron's face could turn entirely red.

_Besides_, she thought to herself as she walked through the corridor,_ he's _not_ my weasel._

~o~

Draco Malfoy likes performing unexpected acts. It made him less than entirely predictable, and so he gained the upper hand over his adversaries. Usually.

The problem was that, lately, it seemed his main adversary was destined to be Granger, and she was less predictable than him without trying.

It wasn't fair. There were all sorts of things she could do that nobody else could, and she never had to put any effort into it. She was just naturally so... perfect.

Well, no, not _perfect_, but probably as close as you could get while still being mortal. She had faults. Draco could list them.

Her hair was too bushy

Her teeth-- no, strike that, they were fine

Both of her parents were entirely muggles, and she was a witch

She was a know-it-all

She didn't seem to give a damn about anything from her hair to her heritage

She had biting insults that still stung weeks after they'd been spoken

It made Draco's insides crawl with hatred. In fact, he could even consider the good things about her, like her big brown eyes, and his face would flush with controlled rage. That was how much he hated her above all others. Well, except maybe Potter.

It wasn't that _something _about Granger set her apart from Draci's other enemies, it was that _everything_ about her did, and it bothered him to no end.


	5. Inky Medaphors

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Seriously, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest, and I'm super-dooper sorry if it has occurred. Super-dooper._

**Author's Note:** _Thanks again for reading! Again, sorry for the wait, and the size of the chapter. I considered adding more, but then you'd have to wait longer, and that wouldn't be fair, so I went with the lesser of two evils. Anyway, thanks again, reviews deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Chapter Five**_

Draco Malfoy... Draco Malfoy... Draco Malfoy... What did that name even mean?

Was he really just a confused little butterfly? Or was he more devious than she had ever imagined him to be? How could she tell without further observation?

She wanted to think the best of people. Wanted to believe that he wasn't truly evil...

But, at the same time, she didn't want to deal with that. She didn't want to except that, deep, deep down, there was something more to Draco Malfoy...

And, with that in mind, she decided what she would believe. She was being stupid. She wanted to ignore logic, ignore something that was probably true. She wouldn't give in to that want. She wouldn't lie to herself. She was no coward. She'd just have to accept that maybe the Draco Malfoy she'd thought she'd known, she hadn't known at all. Or, at least, that somewhere down the line, he'd changed.

She took out her quill, ink, and a scrap of parchment, and decided to see what would happen.

_**~o~**_

Draco made his way down to the Slytherin common room, still thinking of the conversaion he'd had with Lunatic Lovegood-for-nothing moments before.

Most everyone was up, either finishing homework, writing home, or playing exploding snap; so, naturally, the room was rather crowded. Even so, Pansy Parkinson seemed to see him enter from across the room. _Damned blond hair_, he thought, _so handsome and yet to strikingly _blond_._

"Draco!" she gushed, running over to him, "You won't believe what Milly said Blaise did to Eloise Midg--"

Draco cut her off, "Later, Pans. I'm gonna turn in early."

Disappointed, she nodded and strode back to the group of whispering girls in the corner, rejoining their conversation with gusto.

True to his word, Draco made his way to his dormitory, changed into his nightshift, and lay in bed awake for a while before finally falling asleep.

_**~o~**_

He woke up to find that the sun hadn't fully risen, and the other boys in the room were still asleep. Draco changed quietly, cast a tooth-cleaning charm, and walked downstairs to the Great Hall.

Nearly no one was there, just a few students and most of the staff. Draco took a seat on the far side of the Slytherin table, distancing himself from the obnoxious first years sitting on the other side, gazing at him, when he first sat down, with a mixture of fear and admiration.

He grabbed a muffin off of a nearby tray, and took a small bite out of it. Before he could so much as swallow, though, a large, tawny owl landed cheerfully beside his plate, sticking its leg out expectedly. Draco set the muffin down.

Seeing as he was one of four Slytherins awake, and the other three were sitting much further down along the table, the letter was most definitely for him. Unless it was a really, really confused owl.

"Thanks," he murmured, taking the bit of parchment from its leg. It didn't fly away, instead it stood proudly by his plat, and for a moment he wondered if it _was_ a really, really confused owl. As soon as he opened the parchment, however, he realized that he had, in fact, been the intended recipient.

_**+Butterflies don't start off as butterflies, they start off as caterpillars. Butterflies are much more likable than snakes. I do not have a weasel, nor do I ever intend to go and get myself one, thank you very much.**_

__The handwriting was slanted, neat, and undoubtedly belonged to Granger. Casting an appraising look at the still present owl, he flipped the parchment over, and dug around in his bag until he found a quill. He scrolled a message back, attached the parchment to the owl's leg, and told it, his voice low, "Take this to Hermione Granger, please." The owl finally flew off, then perched on the wall by Gryffindor table. Granger hadn't arrived yet.

_**~o~**_

"Yes, I did, because I'm not in divination. Really, Ron."

"Sorry, Hermione. I knew that, I just, I mean, it's like five in the morning, so..." his voice trailed off.

"Oh, please."

"Hey, Hermione, look!" Harry exclaimed at they sat down, interrupting them. A tawny school owl landed next to Hermione's plate. Several Gryffindor's looked over, but soon returned to their meals.

The owl was very familiar. "You couldn't get it to him?" she asked it, confused. One glance at the Slytherin table revealed that Malfoy was not in the Great Hall.

Sticking it's leg out, the owl hooted, determined. She detached the parchment, and the owl, hooting again, almost smugly, flew away. Ron mumbled something that sounded like, 'Krum ruins breakfast,' and started on his omelet with a ferocity that implied that each egg had personally offended him. Harry ignored him and started talking about potions with Dean Thomas.

Boys could be so blunt sometimes, she noted. Obviously it wasn't from Viktor Krum, he was off in bulgaria and wouldn't have received her reply to 'his last letter' yet. And why on earth would he write her using a Hogwarts owl. _Honestly._

She opened up her bit of parchment, wondering why the owl hadn't delivered it, when she suddenly realized something, palmed her face, and flipped the parchment over. Sure enough, there was new writing on the back side.

_**x Butterflies don't start off as snakes. Butterflies are **_**not****_ more likable than snakes in the least; they're not even _cute_, and snake are. As for Weasel... well, you say that _I_ lie to _my_self-- I'd tell you to 'look in the mirror for a change', but then I'd have to add some snide follow up remark about how dangerous that'd be, and it's much too early in the morning for that._**


	6. Broken Beliefs

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, J.K. Rowling, RDR Books, Scholastic Books, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Seriously, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest, and I'm super-dooper sorry if it has occurred. Super-dooper-wooper-dooper sorry (say that ten times fast)._

**Author's Note:**___Part of this chapter started out as a one-shot (you'll probably be able to guess which part). I altered it a bit so that it'd work for this Fanfic instead, but I'm still sort of nervous as to how well it fits in with the rest of the story. Anyway, I wrote it at one o'clock in the morning and I'm afraid it might not be very good. I'm not sure if I really like this chapter, or think it doesn't fit, but I hope that you lean towards the former once you've read it. Reviews are appreciated especially for this chapter, as I'm evidently not sure what to make of it myself, and would love to know what you think of it. _

_Hope you enjoy it, and thanks again for reading!_

**Warning: **_To make up for several short chapters, I expect this one will be rather long_.

_**Chapter Six**_

A few days passed, and Hermione struggled to forget the curious case that was Draco Malfoy. Naturally, it was a bit of a problem for her. She had a bad habit of wanting to know everything she possible could about every subject. Being prepared was something she was good at. It was soothing, knowing she was doing all she could to control the situation and make sure it turned out as it should. When there was something she didn't know, or couldn't quite understand, she'd spend hours in the library, pouring over books, learning things about other topics on the way. The problem was, Draco Malfoy wasn't in any books. But he was still as confusing and intriguing as any mystery she'd solved.

Needless to say that try as she might, she was a little distracted in potions class that afternoon. She accidentally put in a pinch of spleen rather than a peck of toad's eyes. She measured out all of the other ingredients accordingly, and her mistake had no long term effect on her potion. She got the feeling she was being watched, and looked around, expecting to meet Snape's hatefilled stare. Instead, she saw that Neville Longbottom was looked at her and her potion with dismay. She couldn't see why he'd be so put-out, as his potion was coming along exceptionally well. The only thing it looked like he needed to add were the toads' eyes.

"Hermione, would you-- I mean-- it's just that, well, I'm rather fond of my toad, Trevor, and..." his voice trailed off as he looked miserably at his potion.

"Want me to put in the toads' eyes for you, Neville?" Hermione asked gently. Neville nodded, looking miserably at his cauldron. Then, she looked up, and found that now that she wasn't expecting it, she _did_ meet Snape's gaze.

"Miss Granger, do not alter Mister Longbottom's drought. Five points from Gryffindor, for the intent to cheat."

It was a while before Snape stopped watching Hermione closely, and finally she was able to slip the toads' eyes into Neville's potion unnoticed.

As Snape made his rounds at the end of class, inspecting all of the potions-- making rude comments about even the most well-concocted of the Gryffindors' ones, and complimenting every Slytherin-- he saw that Neville's potion was exemplary. Well, it was passable, but for Neville that was quite a feet.

Neville was shaking, not daring look up at Snape. The Slytherin head of house smiled coldly, "Well done..." he began, his voice trailing off, leaving most of the room in suspended disbelief, "Miss Granger." Suddenly all eyes were on Hermione. She looked as innocent as she could-- she_ was_ innocent.

"Miss Granger," Snape drawled with a sneer, walking over to her potion, which was a sizzling pink, exactly as described in the book. "Altering Mister Longbottom's potion when I _specifically_ told you not to? You've disobeyed a direct order from me. That will not be tolerated in this class. Stay after class, so we may discuss the terms of your detention. You'll be serving it with me, tomorrow evening."

Ron muttered something rude and Snape deducted five more points from Gryffindor, and then the class ended. Ron could be rather thick sometimes, but at least he was loyal.

_**~o~**_

Draco walked up to his first class after a dreadfully boring breakfast. Transfiguration. He hated that class. He wished he'd had potions first, like he had the day before. McGonagall taught Transfiguration, and she was rather strict. Most students pronounced her as 'fair' in her rulings. Draco wasn't a big fan of 'fair.' He liked corruption, because when you had as much gold, and as many connections, as the Malfoys did, corruption could only mean power. Not to mention, Draco had Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs.

Draco was supposed to be transfiguring a fish into a purse, but found that 'his wand slipped,' and he'd accidentally transfigured Hannah Abbot into a suit case instead. She looked much better as a suitcase, in his opinion.

"Mister Malfoy! At this point, I'm not sure _why_, but I would have expected more from you!" Stupid woman. If he were a Gryffindor, she'd probably be impressed that he'd so easily transfigured the girl. But no, he was going to get a--

"Detention! I'll be indisposed this evening, so you are go to to the dungeons and serve it with your head of house. I'll let him know I expect you to be punished accordingly."

_**~o~**_

Hermione sat at her potion. It was the first time in days she'd gotten around to mulling things over that didn't involve homework or Malfoy. Well, no, actually it sort of did involve Malfoy, in that his whole 'You Weasel' thing sparked a train of thought.

She just couldn't handle him anymore. One moment he would be loyal as ever, the next he'd be bitterly giving her the silent treatment, the next he'd be making eyes at Madam Rosmerta. "_You were made for each other_," Ginny had said, so many times before... But how did Ginny know?

The more time she spent with Ron, thinking about him like that, the less inclined she was to think that they were ever meant to be anything more than bickering, albeit close, friends. She loved him, deeply, but she was beginning to recognize that it wasn't in a romantic way at all. He was, like Harry, a sort of a brother. Ron usually felt like a younger brother, and Harry an older one, but sometimes she felt like the oldest of the three. Never did she feel like Ron's _girlfriend_. Not recently.

Sure, Ron always got over things in the end, but sometimes it felt like the times before he got over it counted... she felt like she deserved _better_. She deserved someone more perceptive, or, at least, someone who had some control over their emotions. She didn't want someone who'd copy her homework and make insensitive jokes, what she wanted was someone who put thought into what they said, someone who was more independent. Someone strong enough for her to lean on, for a change...

And then she realized something. Well, didn't realize, per say, but something she'd realized recently finally registered; she would never be with Ron. She would never want him like he wanted her. All of her preconceived notions of what the future held that involved him-- _them_-- crumbled before her. And, for the first time in what felt like a long time, she began to cry. Gentle sobs shook through her. Tears slid down her face. Something had changed, she recognized this, and that was a very scary thing. She'd said so herself. It was rational to fear the unknown.

_**~o~**_

Perfect. Just _perfect_. First, he was given a _detention_, then he _had_ to show up, then _Granger_ turned out to be there too, and then, _then_ she'd started _sobbing_! How was he supposed to finish his potion and get out of there with her sobbing so loudly? How in the world did you get a hysterical female to _shut up_? If he insulted her, she'd only cry _more_!

It didn't help that it was _Granger_ crying, either. It wasn't fun, watching her cry. It was like she was letting him down. He didn't know _why_, but he had counted on her being stronger. She just didn't seem like the sort of person to just snap like that. Of course, she_ did_ seem like to sort of person you couldn't figure out.

"Hey, Granger, what's wrong?" he asked her, without a hint of sarcasm or mal-intent in his voice. It was worth a try. To his surprise and pleasure, the sobs died down a bit.

"W-what?" she asked shakily, taken aback and sure she'd misheard him.

"I asked you, 'what's wrong?'"

"Oh."

"Well?"

"You're-you're _serious_, then?"

"Yeah, I am."

"But-but... don't you _want_ to see me cry?" she hadn't meant to say it, but it just came out.

"What sort of sick jerk do you think I am?" he could probably come up with a detailed answer himself.

"I—you always—I mean..."

"I don't care Granger," he paused, "What's wrong? You're sobbing again."

"It's—it's Ron, if you _must_ know," she was saying things she shouldn't have again, but his expression was one of boredom, so she continued, "I don't think I l-l-love him..."

"And so you're crying?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"That seems rather backwards, Granger. Does he know?"

"No, I m-mean, we haven't d-discussed it, or anything."

"Does _he_ love _you_?

"P'robably. Yes."

"Then _he_ should be crying. Why are _you_ upset?"

"Because, I mean... it's s-s-silly, really..."

"When have you known me to laugh at others?"

"Well, to be honest--"

"I was kidding. Go on?"

"I-I always thought we were meant for each other... realizing we we're not is just, I suppose, _upsetting_..."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, I mean, that makes sense, Granger. It's stupid, but--"

"Why is it stupid?"

"Because, _obviously_, you'll just find someone better who fancies you." Was Malfoy actually being civil?

"...How can you know that?"

"I know it."

"Yes, but, how can you be _sure_?"

"Never you mind, Granger."

Seemingly reassured, she worked on her potion for a while, and Draco was able to work on his. It seemed like they'd be able to get out by the time Snape came in to check on them, but then she broke out into sobs all of a sudden, collapsing onto the desk, her head in her arms. Defeated.

It was a pitiful sight, really. Even Draco, who had so long wanted to ruin her, was compelled to make it stop. But what was he supposed to do? What did you do to comfort someone when they were so broken?

Realizing the answer, he hesitated only a moment before moving his chair closer to hers, and pulling her up, off the desk, and into his arms.

Granger either didn't care, or didn't notice, because there was not acknowledgment that anything was different than it had been the moment before. Draco sort of awkwardly hugged her, as lay limply against him. She kept crying, and within moment Draco found that his shirt was soaked. He didn't really care though, a quick spell would fix that later, and besides, it wasn't as if tears stained.

When her sobbing didn't let up, he started to gently rub her back with one hand, the way would would to console a crying child. After a bit of this, she started sobbing harder, and he worried that he'd done the wrong thing. When he made to move her back, however, she surprised him by wrapping her arms around him tightly. Apparently he was doing something right.

_**~x~**_


	7. Disquiting Allegations

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Seriously, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest, and I'm super-dooper sorry if it has occurred. Super-dooper-wooper-dooper sorry (say that ten times fast)._

**Author's Note: **_Do to the length that the last chapter was going to originally be, I decided to make this bit into its own chapter. Since I'm releasing them at about the same time, my thoughts are the same as they were last chapter. So, naturally, I thank you for reading, especially for reading to very far, and hope that you'll enjoy this chapter, and possibly review it regardless. Really, though, you could write, _"_N.L., this whole gosh darn story was awful and should be darned to heck! I really hope you stop writing, and instead do something useful to society, like teaching chimps to translate French to Arabic in space._"

_**Chapter Seven**_

Poor Hermione. All she'd done was help Neville out, and now she'd landed a detention. Ron had overheard Snape discussing the terms with her, and was aware that Snape would be checking on her at hour long intervals. Stupid git trusted Hermione. Well, no, she was to be trusted, but Ron wasn't. Not by Snape, anyway. Yeah, not by Snape. Foolish git.

So, naturally, he had decided to keep her company, as she'd surely be brewing that potion into the early hours. He'd borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak, and made it to the dungeons. It had taken him longer than he'd expected, as he didn't have the marauders map with him, and he'd run into Filch and Mrs. Norris several times, only narrowly avoiding them. Not to mention Peeves, who seemed to find it suspicious that a vase in the corridor had fallen over on it's own accord.

Before he could enter the potions room, he heard sobbing. Poor Hermione, probably so lonely...

As soon as Ron did enter, he realized how very wrong he'd been. Hermione was the exact opposite of lonely. She was probably wishing she was alone.

Malfoy obviously didn't notice him come in-- he _was_ invisible. The git was holding Hermione against her will! Pressing her hard against him, the pervert! Running one of his bloody hands along her back! No wonder she was sobbing! That creep was attacking her!

He threw the cloak to his side, thoroughly startling Malfoy, as he appeared out of what seemed like no where. The git loosened his grip on Hermione, and she looked up into his face, eyes pleading. Probably wishing he'd let go of her entirely. He he taken her wand?

"Let. Her. Go," Ron pronounced through his teeth. He was pleased to find that, for a moment, Malfoy didn't seem to know what to do with himself. His face relaxed into a familiar, condescending sneer, and he looked like he was about to say something, but Ron beat him to it.

"You are _not _allowed to touch Hermione. Let her go _now_." Again, Malfoy was about to speak, when Hermione, surprising both boys, did instead.

"You don't decide that, Ronald." At that point, Malfoy decided that for once in his life, he'd stay out of their business, and say nothing. His mouth would remain closed.

"You- you can't be serious, Hermione," Ron stated, confused. Then, his face flushing again, he rounded on Malfoy, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER? WHAT SPELL?" This time Malfoy didn't even try to speak.

"He hasn't done anything to me, Ron!"

"Yes he has! He done loads of--"

"Ron, I can speak to him if I like." Something Ron had said over the course of recent events seemed to have struck a nerve with Hermione. She wasn't shouting, like Ron was, but her words were sharp and clearer than they should have been for someone who'd just been crying.

"You call that _speaking_? He was bloody cradling you in his bloody arms! Merlin, if you think that's _speaking. _I--"

"You don't decide whether or not he—he holds me, Ron!"

"But you can't touch Malfoy, Hermione," Ron said, exasperated, desperate, enraged, and slightly confused. But mostly enraged. "He'll hurt you, or something! You're endangering yourself, I—I--as your friend, I wont allow it!"

"I. Don't. Need. Your. Permission!"

"I didn't say--"

"You as good as did! Ugh, Ron, this is _just_ like with Viktor!"

"YOU'VE BEEN SNOGGING MALFOY!?!"

"I _never _said--"

"_You _and _Malfoy_? _Snogging_? Merlin! Do you _always_ snog the enemy?"

"He wasn't the enemy until I started snogging him!"

"JUST HOW LONG EXACTLY HAVE YOU BEEN SNOGGING MALFOY?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, I am _not_ snogging Malfoy! And even if I _were_--"

"So you _are_ snogging Malfoy!"

"I can snog whoever I want to!"

"EXCEPT MALFOY! YOU CAN'T SNOG HIM!"

"_Including_ Malfoy! I can snog whoever I please!"

"But Hermione, you can't snog that git! I won't allow it--" he broke off, his eyes wide with horror. Obviously he had pushed her too far. To spite him and prove her point, Hermione had softly place a kiss on Malfoy's cheek.

"YOU LITTLE—WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO-- HOW DARE YOU TRICK HER INTO-- YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF--" Ron was past forming coherent sentences. He charged at Malfoy, taking him by surprise. Ron brought his arm back for a punch, determined to break his pale, angular nose, when--

"Mr Weasley. Assaulting a fellow student? Up after hours? Interrupting a detention? Screaming so loudly that I could hear you from down the hall? Do you have_ any_ idea how much trouble you've gotten yourself into?" Snape, who apparently did have some sort of idea, smiled wickedly, "Come with me, Weasley, your head of house should be out of her meeting by now. I expect she'll want to decide a punishment. And you two," he looked from Draco to Hermione. Malfoy had gone rather paler than usual his expression was normal enough, a smirk, but his eyes were cloudy and distant. He'd probably spilled something on himself, as part of his shirt was rather wet. Granger was a wreck; tear tracks ran down her cheeks and her hair was messier than usual. She probably got told off by Draco, and then Weasley stepped in and tried to punch him.

"And you two are dismissed, go back to your respective common rooms." No need for McGonagall to put the pieces together and go softer on Weasley. Much less punish Draco.

Funny, he could have sworn he'd heard Weasley shout the word 'snogging' a number of times.

_**~x~**_


	8. Stolen Candles

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Seriously, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest, and I'm super-dooper sorry if it has occurred. Super-dooper-wooper-dooper sorry (say that ten times fast and you deserve a chocolate frog)._

**Author's Note: **_I maintain that reviews are appreciated, and apologize to those of you who knew I'd say that. I also thank you, for you've obviously been reading this story. Bet you knew that was coming too. Anyway, thanks a ton! Hope you enjoy this next chapter :)_

**_Chapter Eight_**

Draco woke up the next morning and wondered instantly why he was so tired. Oh, right, late detention... Granger had been there, started crying... Weasel had come running in... They'd argued about snogging rights...

Draco smirked, remembering the look on Weasel's face when he thought he'd snogged Granger. It was nothing compared to that look of horror he had on when he saw Granger... Right, Granger had kissed him. Just a peck on the cheek. Draco's cheek burned when he thought about it.

Draco wished she'd full out snogged him. That would have really put Weasel over the edge...

His thoughts were interrupted as Blaise Zabini sat down on the edge of Draco's bed.

"Draco..." he began, giving him a look of concern, "Are you all right?"

Draco blinked. "Yeah, why? What's wrong?" Potter make an assassination attempt while he was asleep? He'd thought those were rumors...

"Nothing," Blaise said, looking slightly embarrassed. Obviously there was_ something_. Appareing to have read his mind, the Slythering continued carefully, "It's just, there's been some rumors going around that--" maybe it _was_ about an assassination attempt.

Draco rolled his eyes and cut him off, "Blaise, really, whatever it is, don't believe everything Pansy says."

Then, thoughtfully, the two spoke at once, "Or anything really."

Blaise grinned, Draco smirked, and they both headed for breakfast, greeting Nott cheerfully as they left the dormitory.

**~o~**

"Hermione, tell us everything!"

"Oh, yes, Hermione, is it really true?"

Hermione looked up from her toast. Sitting on her left was Parvati Patil, and, on her right, Lavender Brown. The two people she'd least like to talk to early in the morning.

Normally she'd have sat with Harry and Ron, but neither had come down for breakfast yet, and she suspected that even if they had, Ron, at least, wouldn't be sitting with her. So, naturally, the two girls had taken their empty seats.

"Is what true?" she asked, boredly, stifling a yawn.

"Well," said Lavender, exchanging an excited glance with her friend, "Early this morning, Peeves was telling a curious story in the Hufflepuff common room while he was stealing candles." Seeing as it took place in the Hufflepuff common room, the two girls shouldn't have found out yet, but that didn't matter. News traveled fast.

Hermione blinked, nonplussed. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Peeves said that last night, while he was hiding from Filch," she stifled a giggle, "He said that you were snogging Draco Malfoy!" she finished with glee.

"He said," Parvati chimed in, "That Ron knocked down the door and tried to stop you! And then _you_ shouted that you could snog whomever you pleased, and that you kept on snogging him, and Ron challenged Malfoy to a duel, and Malfoy said something about Viktor Krum, that hot Quidditch player--"

"Except that Peeves and Malfoy didn't mention that he was hot," Lavender noted. Parvati nodded and continued.

"--And then Snape walked in, and told you and Malfoy to go sleep in your own rooms, and told Ron off! And then you and Draco snogged some more, for good measure, and left!"

"And I did hear you sneaking in at a late hour, you nearly woke me up!" Lavender added.

They looked at Hermione expectedly for a moment, and then Hermione broke into a hysterical fit of laughter.

"Complete—complete—rubbish," she gasped, laughing harder even as heads began to turn. The two girls frowned, not hiding their suspicion.

"All right Hermione," Lavender said softly, her tone sweet as Pumpkin juice, "we believe you."

"Though if you ever _do _go around snogging that Slytherin, we'll be the first to know."

This only made Hermione laugh harder. She realized how ridiculous the whole episode had been. It was like viewing a political figure as a caricature-- every detail blown out of proportion in a highly amusing way.

_**~o~**_

"Oh, for the fifth time Pansy, here's what happened:

"We just brewed potions for a while in silence-- I wanted to get out of detention as soon as I could-- and then Weasel ran in. They got into arguing over Viktor Krum, and I just ignored them until Weasel started shouting, and I told him to shut it. So, Weasel thought I was taking Mudblood's side, and yelled that she'd probably been snogging me, too, he charged at me," Pansy gasped, but Draco ignored her, "So, I pulled out my want and I was about to hex him when Snape came in. Naturally, Snape realized what a dolt Weasel was being and took him to McGonagall, and then Granger and I just left."

"So you didn't kiss Granger?" Millicent asked, as if it were for the first time rather than the seventh.

"Oh _yeah_," Draco spat, his words dripping with sarcasm, "We kiss all the time. We meet up at the Astronomy tower several times a week and snog like there's no tomorrow." Her rolled his eyes, and most of his gang laughed.

_**~o~**_

Over the next few days, most of the Slytherins had learned not to say the word 'Astronomy' near Draco Malfoy. After a few hours, he'd hexed an estimated six second years for looking at him funny, three fifth years for giggling and whispering 'Astronomy tower,' and twelve first years, because they stopped whispering every time he glared in their direction.

Most of the Gryffindors didn't believe for a minute that Hermione Granger had done anything remotely friendly with Draco Malfoy in her entire life, and defended her ardently when the opportunity arose. It was insulting to think that any Gryffindor in their right mind would, and if anyone was in their right mind, it was Hermione Granger. Ron, however, wasn't most of the Gryffindors, he was just one of them, and he refused to talk to Hermione, and instead muttered angrily about her to Seamus and Dean whenever she turned around. They weren't sure what to believe, nor was Harry, for that matter. The whole thing seemed ludicrous, and he remained on good terms with both of them, nodding and listening uncomfortably whenever either of them decided to rant about the other.

_**~x~**_


	9. Applied Logic

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honest to Merlin, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest._

**Author's Note: **_I maintain that reviews are appreciated, and apologize to those of you who knew I'd say that. I also thank you, for you've obviously been reading this story. Bet you knew that was coming too. Anyway, thanks a ton! (By the way, I'm amazed at how many reviews I received with these recent chapters, thank you all so much!) Hope you enjoy this next chapter, sorry for the rather long dialogue :O _

_(Bua ha ha, that surprised-face if you, because you expected a happy face :) probably)_

**_Chapter Nine_**

The whole thing wasn't nearly as funny the millionth time over, and Hermione was pleased to see that the excitement surrounding Peeve's little tale was subsiding somewhat. She was still upset at Ron, and Ron was upset with her, and really it just made what she'd been thinking about that night all the more relevant.

If he was willing to so easily think badly of her, and get upset with her, while they were friends, why on earth would that be easier in a different sort of relationship? But, then, at the same time, she didn't want to start to think differently. But, she didn't want to not want to have an open mind, because then she would be close-minded, and choosing the path of ignorance, and through that she'd be going against her own principles so long held.

And then there was the whole business with Malfoy. What was it with him? Was he going out of his way to be confusing?-- Now there was a theory. Maybe he was messing with her mind on purpose, and... and... and she was paranoid.

If he wanted to harm her, he could have easily done so when she'd been in such a weak state. She let her guard down, and he didn't attack. Quite the opposite. He treated her as anyone would want to be treated in such a situation, really. Why was that? Was it because he couldn't think of a better thing to to? Had he had something planned, and chickened out?

The whole world was a mess of emotions, and actions, and things that didn't make sense. No, that wasn't quite right. Everything made sense. Maybe it didn't make sense to her, but if she looked at the grand scheme of things, and knew everything that there was to know, surely everything had a cause, caused a reaction, caused an opposite reaction. Everything happened for a reason. That wasn't to say that she believed in fate, no that was poppycock, but more than nothing just came out of nowhere. If you looked hard enough, there was always a cause.

But how was she supposed to look at 'the grand scheme of things'? How could she see her own life objectively if she was sitting there, living it, making decisions and being affected by them?

Simple: she had to find someone who wasn't. Someone who was barely involved at all. And, until she tried to do that, she had no idea how difficult it would prove to be.

_**~o~**_

"You kissed Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes. On the cheek."

"To spite Ronald, though?"

"Yeah."

"Are you quite sure that was why?"

"I know that was why."

"Then why are you here, telling me all of this, Hermione? There's a portrait on the third floor, of a old man painting a street corner green, he's wonderful to tell things to."

"See, Luna, it goes on. There's more to it."

"You kissed him twice?"

"No, to the story I mean."

"Oh. Do tell?"

"Well, so Ron made to punch him, and then Snape came in."

"I had heard that part. Robbie Dinframik, a third year, was speaking about it just yesterday. At lunch. I was eating an apple tart, they are quite delicious. Have you ever had an apple tart?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly like that."

"You mean to say you _drank_ the apple tart?"

"No, the story!"

"Now, why would you drink a st-- Oh, oh yes, sorry. Nargle got me."

"A what? Nevermind. So, the thing is, about Ron..."

"You only like him as a friend."

"What?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I-I don't know. I mean, I used to think that I liked him as, you know, more, but now, I dunno, I don't think I do."

"I still don't see what you're wondering about."

"Well, that is, what do you think? From what you know, do you, do you think I like him? Like that, I mean?"

"No, I don't. I can't see why you would. Ronald is rather aggressive. He seems to like you though."

"Oh."

"You were going to ask me about Draco?"

"Yes, yes I actually-- I was. What about him then?"

"Yes, I do think you like him."

"You what?"

"Wasn't that what you meant?"

"No—I was going to ask about what you thought of his recent behavior."

"He's a bully."

"Yes?"

"Well, so what do you know about bullies?"

"They pick on people," Hermione said the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes. But why?"

"Because they're insecure?"

"Not necessarily. Because they like to feel powerful."

"Right. That's why it's good to ignore them. You don't give them power over you."

"Precisely. So, Draco likes having power over people. There are several reasons why this might be."

"Because he lacks control elsewhere?"

"That could be it. Or, perhaps, because he wants attention."

"That seems likely."

"Now, why would somebody want attention, Hermione?" her tone was, surprisingly, not a patronizing one. Just as it usually was, dreamy and rather distant. As if she were feigning interest, or trying to remember something.

"Because they interpret it as a form of approval?"

"Which brings us back to a lack of self-confidence. Insecurity."

"That explains why he always acts to confident."

"Yes, yes I suppose it does."

"But then, why didn't he keep it up, before? He was tired of wearing a mask, so to say?"

"He could have been, but I suspect not..."

"So?"

"So he showed compassion towards you. Pity, even."

"But that doesn't make sense, Luna. He bullies people all the time! He never shows them any compassion, any pity!"

"No, he doesn't, does he. Is that all then?"

"What?"

"I have to go to Care of Magical Creatures."

"Right. Sorry. Well, thanks, Luna."

"We should talk more often. You really sort of remind me of a Chasperkha, sometimes. I think, if you kept an open-mind, you would find them rather interesting..."

_**~x~**_


	10. Evident Anger

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honest to Merlin, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest. I can't be J.K. Rowling, I'm not even British._

**Author's Note: **_Mmm, had trouble with this chapter. Sorry it took ages (and yet isn't very long at all?)! This time I'll be sure to update sooner. I already have several later chapters written, I just need to figure out how to get there from here..._

_Anyway, thank you so much for reading, thanks to those who review, and I hope you enjoy the tenth installment! :)_

**_Chapter Ten_**

Draco Malfoy was very, very mad.

He was mad at himself.

He was mad at every other git in the castle.

Most especially, he was mad at Ronald Weasely.

He was also very, very mad at Harry Potter, but then, he always was.

It was rather well known when Draco Malfoy was in a bad mood, because at least three younger children would turn up in the hospital wing, unable to tell Madam Pomfrey how exactly they had become so hexed. Madam Pomfrey and the little ones, however, were rarely the first ones to figure out that Draco Malfoy was upset. Usually Pansy Parkinson was the first, and today was no exception.

"Draco, dear? I was wondering, would you like to give it another go? I think you'll find I really can be quite convincing," she contorted her head around in some strange way, batting her eyelashes. Did she really think that that was, in the least, attractive?

"Pansy, I was wondering, you would like to be found in a ditch thirty miles from here, very dead and very unrecognizable? Or would you rather leave me the hell alone?"

After Pansy came Blaise. Well, only technically. Usually Crabbe and Goyle noticed Draco was acting oddly pretty quickly, but they attributed it to hunger. Their logic was that since they were usually only emotionally unwell when they were separated from food, that must have been what was wrong with Draco. He realized that their offerings of food were acts of compassion, and wasn't very harsh when he turned them away each time. Eventually the two had a long discussion and decided that Draco had an upset stomach from eating too much.

Anyway, as I said, Blaise Zabini technically came next. He figured it out not from his own interactions with Draco, but from observations made while Draco interacted with others, like Pansy. Being smarter by far than the other three, Blaise avoided Draco all day. Which actually bothered him, as Draco wanted to have an intelligent discussion with someone.

The smartest person he could think of was Theodore Nott, but he'd always gotten the sense that Nott didn't really want to be associated with him, and although he'd never taken offense, he was rather put-out.

After enduring a boring Herbology lesson with the Ravenclaws, Draco was inspired. He should have realized it all along, really. He'd spoken with her before, and she always gave great, thoughtful advice, she could probably help him sort things out.

_**~o~**_

"You look lovely today, as always!"

"Yes, thank you. I was actually looking for some advice?"

"I'd stick with it as it is. Looks much better since you've stopped gelling it. I know girls who'd kill for that color. Pour potions on their heads, hoping it'll come out that shade of blond. Keep the clothes the same too, dear. The green and silver tie really suit you."

"Yeah. Thanks..."

Why, on earth, had he thought it would be a good idea to talk to a talking mirror? For Merlin's sake, _that _was pointless. Sure, it was almost like talking to himself, but still. He'd probably be better off talking to himself, actually, at least then he would already know exactly how gorgeous he thought (he _knew_) he was, and no one would feel compelled to voice it out loud.

_**~o~**_

"I'm so tired of Ron. Sure, I'll forgive him if he apologizes, but _still_. I mean, how could he think that-that-"

"I know, Hermione. How could he possibly think that you would ever be involved in such an atrocious manner with such a disgusting example of a human being as Draco Malfoy, it's simply stupid that he would ever think that, honestly sometimes he drives you crazy, he concludes things without significant evidence to support his conclusions, he was just like this with Krum except not because you don't even like Malfoy, he tried to punch Malfoy even though for once he literally did absolutely nothing to Ron or to you or to me, and you think Ron can be stupider than Pigwidgeon when he wants to be."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, startling Harry with an hug. "Oh, I'm so awful! Do I really say all that? All the time?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"I'm sorry, Harry! This must be dreadful for you!"

"It's all right, Hermione."

"No, it isn't! I'm going to go talk to Ron!"

"I thought you weren't apologizing to him?"

"Oh, I'm not. Didn't you hear me? I'm going to talk to him."

"Right. Well, good luck then."

_**~x~**_


	11. Simply Spoken

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honest to Merlin, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest. I'm not J.K. Rowling! Sure, we both have loads of adoring fans, and are household names, and are rich, and... no, wait, we really have nothing in common at all. Hmm, I should do something about that..._

**Author's Note: **_I'mma move this to the end, so that no one is bothered by it's length. I mean, you came to read the story, y'know? ;)_

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Hermione was a girl, and thus could access not only her own dormitory, but the boys' dormitory as well. She slipped up the steps that afternoon to see Ron. Ron was a boy, and so naturally he could not get into the girls' dormitory, but it would be fair to assume that that was not the reason why he'd never gone to see Hermione for a while.

The door didn't open with a creak, but he knew when she came in. He'd been sitting on his bed, reading a silly book about Quidditch his brother Charlie had given him for Christmas ages ago. He practically knew the thing by heart, so he only read it when he needed to be consumed in something familiar. Then she'd come in, and then he'd looked up. And then he didn't say anything, forcing her to speak first.

"Ronald?"

"What? Have you forgotten what I look like now that you spend your days _gazing lovingly _into the eyes of that great prat, Malfoy?"

"No," her tone implied that he hadn't heard a thing he'd just said, except he knew that she must've, because people don't just say 'No,' out of the blue. But then, Hermione'd never been like most people, she'd always been different, usually in a good or an aggravating way.

"What, then? Expect to find Harry in my bed instead? Just 'cause you've lost it doesn't mean we all have." And again, she exhibited either selective deafness, or a startling amount of self control.

"I just wanted to come and talk to you."

"Why?"

"I don't like how things are between us, is all."

"I don't like how things are between you and Malfoy." She shot him a bit of a look, so he added, "And Krum."

"I don't like that you think that matters." Her tone was icy enough to confirm that she had, indeed, been hearing him the whole time. Her expression, though, had returned to something close to casual.

"So, we're at an unpass."

"An _impass_, Ronald. Really."

"You know what I meant. We're here, and how the hell do you want to get past it? Somethings got to give. And it isn't going to be me."

"But do you want it to be our friendship?"

"No."

"So you want it to be me?"

"No... well, as opposed to me, I guess."

"Anything as opposed to you, right?"

"That's—that's now how I meant for it to sound."

"But that's how it sounds. And that's how it is."

"I care about you!" He didn't know exactly what he meant by that, and the startled look that crossed her face indicated that she'd picked up a double meaning.

"I know," she said again, cool as ever.

"So--" his words and thoughts seemed to be forming at about the same time, "So, so I want to put our friendship first, I mean."

"So you're willing to be friends again?" she didn't seem to get the right meaning out of what he'd said, though Ron himself wasn't sure exactly what he'd meant anyway.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?"

"But I mean-- _Malfoy_?"

"I already told you there's nothing between us." Ron was about to say something like, 'oh, including space, at any given moment?' but remembered that he'd already decided to be her friend again.

"Well--" he searched for words again, "Well, good."

"But you do know that if I wanted to snog him, I could."

"But--"

"That_ I _get to choose who _I _snog and who _I _don't."

"Yeah, of course," but the color in his cheeks didn't say 'of course' at all. Neither did the thoughts crossing his mind--they all said, 'Except for Malfoy.' Well, no, not all of them. Quite a few were about food, and several sounded more like, 'Kill Malfoy, the bloody git.'

"So, we're friends then?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then, could you _please_ stop telling Seamus that you saw me full-on snog Malfoy?"

"I never said--"

"Yes you did."

"Fine. I'll say you kissed him, though. You _did _kiss him."

"On the cheek."

"Do I have to say that bit?" already the hostile atmosphere was clearing up.

"Yes, you do, Ron. Especially that bit." She'd even used his nickname.

_**~o~**_

It looked like talking to another intelligent person was out of the question. Talking to a friend would have to do. He'd always figured that Gregory had the memory of a goldfish, ever since somebody mentioned that it was something like three seconds, so really he wasn't concerned about anyone finding out. Not to mention Gory was scared of him, and loyal to him. He'd always preferred him to Crabbe. There was something darker, and even _smarter_, about Vincent than Gregory. Although, Gregory did insist that Draco called him 'Gory,' whenever he remembered to insist. He'd read somewhere that all gangs had to have 'cool nicknames.' Draco was sure it was a muggle magazine. In any case, Draco refused to let anyone call him 'Dracula,' which was the name of some awful Romanian King, and Vincent claimed that 'Vice' sounded too girly.

"Is this about the rumors 'bout you and Mudblood Granger?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Is the story you keep telling Pansy the truth one?"

"Some of it is."

"What's the whole truth story?"

"Basically, Granger was crying, out of nowhere, while we were making our potions."

"Did you hex her while she was distractered?"

"That's the problem, I _should_ have."

"But you didn't?"

"No, I did something awful."

"You didn't hex her?"

"Yeah, I _didn't_. I sort of, of, _hugged_ her, almost."

"You mugged her? How much did you get?"

"No, I _hugged_ her."

"Was it nice?"

"What?"

"Was it nice when you hugged Mudblood Granger?" Gregory didn't seem to be taunting him. He knew enough not to do that. He did seem genuinely curious, though, it was as if Draco had told him that there was a cupcake in his pocket.

"I—I don't know! How can you say that? She's a Mudblood! It's in her name! _Mudblood Granger_!" He hoped he sounded appalled enough. He was really just sort of confused.

"Yeah, but," Gregory leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if letting Draco in on a secret, "She's a _girl_. Mudbloods can be _girls_."

The clear wonder in his voice was enough to make Draco laugh, but he didn't. "Yeah, I know, obviously. They _are_ humans. Humans can be boys _or_ girls."

Gregory nodded, considering this, before saying, "So. Was it nice, then?"

Draco was lost again. "How could it be nice?"

Gregory blinked. "You like girls, right?" he sort of edged away from Draco, looking less curious than he had before.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Obviously." Gregory'd seen him snog Pansy back when they were together.

Gregory blinked again. This was becoming a bit of a habit. "So, then," he tried to figure out exactly what Draco wasn't understanding. It wasn't as if Gregory was ever very cryptic. He even heard people call him 'simple,' which was the opposite of that, probably. "You like girls. Mudbloods can be girls. Mudblood Granger is a girl. Mudblood Granger hugged you. A girl hugged you. Was it nice?"

If anyone else had spoken to him like that, he would've hexed them, but when Gregory had a particularly complicated train of thoughts, it needed to be spread out like that, for his own good. It did help Draco understand, though.

"I dunno," he said again, shrugging, "She was crying, and it was _her_, and she was holding me really tight, and it was _her_, and I was sort of rubbing her back, almost, and it was _her_, so—so I dunno."

"Ok," Gregory said, deciding not to ask any further because it was all sort of confusing. "So, you were saying? When did Weasley come in?"

"He didn't really come in. I mean, after a little bit, he sort of appeared. Must've been under some sort of concealment charm, or an invisibility cloak—though I bet he couldn't afford one,they're really rare. Anyway, he and Granger started arguing over who she was or wasn't allowed to snog, and whether or not she was allowed to snog me, and then whether or not she did snog me. Weaselbee was rather loud about it."

"So did you let go of her?"

"What?"

"When they were fighting?"

"I dunno, probably. She was still sitting next to me, I think. Anyway, so then she kissed me on the cheek--"

"As a thank you?"

"No, to annoy Weaselbee."

"Did she say that?"

"No, but it was pretty obvious."

"Oh, ok. Then what?"

"Then he made to punch me."

"Did you hex him first?"

"No, I was too shocked."

"From him making to punch you?"

"Yeah. Obviously."

"So, did he punch you, then?"

"No. Snape came in, and told him off, and dismissed us."

"What are you confused about?"

"The whole thing, really. I mean, why didn't I hex her?"

"She's a girl?"

"That's never stopped me before."

"She's a mudblood?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Because you hate her?"

"That doesn't make any sense either. If you hate someone, you hex them. If you don't, well, that's not what you do when you hate someone. And I hate Granger. So why didn't I do it?"

Gregory thought about this a long while, and Draco remained quiet, so as not to interrupt him. "She's a girl," he started, "And you like girls. She's Mudblood. And you hate Mudbloods. So, you could act either way around her, like you like her, or like you hate her. Usually I think you probably hate her. But you didn't act like you usually do. So, now I think--"

Draco interrupted him by leaving the room. Gregory was usually good at pleasing Draco with his simple sentences and hero-worship. But no, not today. Today Draco was not pleased, and it had everything to do with something Gregory had said in one of his simple sentences.

_**~x~**_

**Author's Note for realsies:** _Oh gosh, I'm so so sooo sorry for not adding more sooner. I really am. Especially 'cause before I said I'd be sure to update soon, and now I haven't. I do have a decent reason. Well, near decent. I've been busier than I expected to be, starting out with me forgetting that I'd be away for several days this week, and ending with me only realizing yesterday that today is my birthday. Yeah, I know, I seriously forgot my own birthday. Only for this week though! I knew last week, honest. And besides, that's not really my fault-- my birthday comes last in a series of dates that have to be remembered in August every year, so naturally it's the one I think of last. See, I have no idea what the odds are, but somehow I ended up having my birthday on the 20__th__, and my older brother had his on the 4__th__, and my younger brother has his on the 14__th__, and my parent's wedding anniversary is on the 11__th__, and since my mum works, I end up in charge of making the cards and the cakes and reminding people, and so since my own birthday is the one I'm not in charge of, it's easily forgotten._

_Drat, that was a long author's note, and I haven't even thanked you all for reading yet! Talk about __forgetful D:_

_Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Also, thanks to the wonderful people who review! You folks really brighten up my day, much as that means :)_


	12. Belated Realizations

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. Honest to Merlin, no copyright infringement is intended in the slightest. I'm not J.K. Rowling! Sure, we both have loads of adoring fans, and are household names, and are rich, and... no, wait, we really have nothing in common at all. I should do something about that._

**Author's Note**_: Thanks for reading! And, to those of you who review, thanks for reviewing! You folks really brighten up my day[s] :D Anyway, this is a bit of a short chapter, but I'd dare say it's important... So, enjoy! And have a lovely day :)_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

He realized something then.,Something he should have figured out long before. It scared him a little, bit it did make sense. All the clues added up. He'd been wrong all along! They all had! He saw the truth now. He, Gregory Harper Goyle, saw the truth.

And, the truth was, Gregory saw that Draco Malfoy was upset, and it had nothing to do with his stomach!

_**~o~**_

Draco walked through the corridors. When he was working hard mentally, it helped to do something familiar physically. In fact, the action of walking was just about as familiar as his current thoughts were unfamiliar.

Hermione Granger was a Mudblood. She was a witch. She was a human.

Draco was a Pureblood. A wizard. A human. And Purebloods were better than Mudbloods.

But were they really? He was Pureblooded, but Granger beat him in every class.

So, Mudbloods could be better at class, and, thus, better at magic. But, no, Granger didn't count.

Did she? She wasn't like the other Mudbloods. Mudbloods were supposed to be idiots! Dumb as Crabbe, or Goyle, and clumsy as Longbottom...

Except, Crabbe, Goyle, and Longbottom were Purebloods. They weren't supposed to be idiots... But they were.

No one was who they were supposed to be. They were all bloody different. The whole world was..._ different_. The whole bloody world.

And, for the first time in his life, Draco genuinely accepted that he'd been wrong. That he had been a coward. That he wasn't perfect yet. And, he realized something else, too. It _had_ been nice hugging Granger. But only because she was a girl.

He still hated her. Probably.

Yeah, he hated her! He had to. There were all sorts of things wrong with her. Like the way she made him feel! That had to be hate!

She could cut him like no one else. She was not only willing to ignore him, but she would even whack him in the face! She didn't see him as the 'Prince of Slytherin,' she saw him as just another commoner, and a cowardly one at that! It wasn't fair! He wanted desperately for her to see his good side, her above all others, but it felt like she never did!

She was never impressed or intimidated by him, only ever _disgusted_. She was barely even annoyed with him! She made him feel all of these horrible things whenever he thought about her. Happy, angry, embarrassed, ashamed, lonely, and worst of all, _sad_.

A horrible sort of sad! Sad like when his father said "No" to buying him that broomstick, or like when his father yelled at him for not being good enough, or...

But it _had_ to be hate.

He hated Potter, and Potter made him angry... but not all those other things.

He hated Weaselbee, too. And he made him feel angry. And jealous. Mostly because he had to many siblings. Draco was an only child, and although sometimes he liked it, usually he just wished he had an older brother.

Granger was just... different. Different from all the other people he hated. Different from all the Mudbloods. Different from all the people he knew... She wasn't just different, she was _better_. Smarter, mostly, but other things, too. Like gentle, and accepting, and and considerate. When she'd worked with him in Potions, she hadn't tried to hex him, she _talked_ to him. And that wasn't because she was smart. He'd worked with Ravenclaws, and although they weren't as wand-happy as Gryfindors, they were certainly easily as riled-up. It was because she was... Granger. It was the sort of thing she did. She was so smart... and yet, not emotionally distant. She didn't let logic rule her life, it seemed. She always went along on Potter's heroic adventures...

The problem was, there wasn't a whole lot to hate about her now that she wasn't a Mudblood. Well, no, now that it didn't matter if she was a Mudblood. Muggleborn.

She was a know-it-all, but... It sure beat being a know-nothing-at-all, like Crabbe or Goyle. Or Potter.

She did have bushy hair. But, then, he'd never really minded it all that much. In fact, it almost looked nice, probably.

A=B, C=B, therefore C=A. Granger was a girl, Draco liked girls, so Draco liked Granger.

No!

...Yes.

Draco didn't hate Granger. Draco _didn't_ hate Granger. Draco didn't hate Granger.

Draco liked Granger. Probably.

"I like Granger," he murmured aloud, his eyes wide.

"What?" asked a student, who'd been passing by and thought Draco had spoken to him.

"I said: Why hike, stranger?"

"Er, it's good exorcise?"

"Good answer; now move, you're in my way."

Something had to be done about this.

_**~x~**_


	13. Actions Taken

**Disclaimer: **_This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners. This is a work of FanFiction that no one will be profiting off of. No copyright infringement is intended in the slightest. That's right, folks, and I didn't eat the last cookie, either. No, you're right, I did, but I sure didn't infringe on any copyrights!_

**Author's Note:** _I'm really sorry, you guys. I've written so many chapters for this, and every time they ended up in the trash can. I finally decided to just leave some of the plot be for now, so this next drabble-ish chapter is set a bit after the last chapter. I'll fill in the blank later, probably. If you have any suggestions, please lemme know in a review, kay? _

_Anyway, thank you sooo so much for reading, and double that for reviewing. Have a lovely day, and enjoy!_

** _Chapter Thirteen_**

"We're too different. Things like this, they... they never work out in real life."

"Only because in real life, people aren't willing to try to make things work out."

"It's just... a lost cause. I don't want to make it hurt any longer than it has to. I'm the bookish muggleborn, neat, composed, passionate, liberal, witty... You're, you're..."

"The spoiled, haphazard, pureblood brat, with a sharp tongue and a mind full of prejudice?"

"Well, honestly, yes. I don't like the way it sounds, exactly, but yes."

"But I've changed. Now I'm the spoiled, haphazard, pureblood git with a sharp tongue and a mind full of nothing but affection for the bookish muggleborn."

"People don't just change..."

"I'm a person, not a people."

"No, but, really. Girls who enter relationships thinking, 'I'll be the one... I'll be the one to change him...' They only get hurt. It never works out for them."

"That's different."

"Not entirely, I don't think. You thought you could change for me, and..."

"No, I never changed_ for_ you. Hermione Granger, I changed _because of _you. And you didn't change my mind because I fell in love with you, or something, you changed my mind because I was _wrong_, and you were smart enough to make me see that."

"But you can't love me because I was 'smart enough' to change you. I didn't do anything, really."

"I don't love you because of that. I love you 'cause... Merlin, it sounds corny. You're_ you_. You're brilliant, and humble, and witty, and pretty, and caring, and you've made me respect you."

"I don't know what to say."

"That makes this, what, once in your life? Maybe twice if someones used the confundus charm on you?"

"Fine. You've convinced me. It_ could_ work. But..."

"Granger, you're not signing a contract. I mean, you do like reading, I could write one up for you if you wanted, but that would be rather medieval. Really, people already thought we were snogging in secret. Shouldn't be too much of a shock. Maybe we should just say the story was true?"

"Or we could not say anything. It isn't their business."

"True. Could you tell Potty and Weaselbee though? I'd like to see the looks on their faces."

"I'd rather not."

"Fine. You're no fun."

"We already have that much in common, then. Maybe this will work out."

"It will."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"You're supposed to say 'what are you thanking me for, Granger?'"

"No I'm not. Why? Is that what Weasel usually asks when you thank him for things? Because that's not proper etiquette for wizards, or anything, he's just dumb."

"No, but it is what people in general say when I thank them without a pretense."

"Oh. I thought you were thanking me for deciding to kiss you."

"For _what_?"

You can guess what happened next.

If you guessed that Professer Snape would come in and attack them, then you were wrong, Malfoy just kissed her. And no, I won't be going into detail because frankly, that's icky.

**~x~**


End file.
